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Becci helps her brother with his fetish.

I began to imagine scenarios of my mother wanting me to fuck her. It was a crude, naughty feeling; but my cock jumped to attention.

After dinner Mom told me to sit on the couch and relax, she would wash the dishes and then bring us both a beer. After all as she said, "you're the Master of the manor, and your wishes should be obeyed." We both laughed and I headed off to the living room and a ballgame. I heard her fill the sink and rattle some plates. About two innings later, I was propped on the recliner and Mom appeared with a beer in each hand.

Her strawberry-blonde hair was pinned atop her head. Loose, sweaty strands dangled down her neck and a few light tendrils lay plastered in her deep cleavage. The steamy water had added color to her cheeks and brightened the icy glow of her cool, blue eyes. There was still a film of soap suds on her arms and wet spots on her clingy shirt. It made the flimsy material translucent. She wore a thin bra that could not conceal her moist, heaving breasts. And when she knelt down at my side and offered a beer, I could see clearly down the front of her shirt. My attention not to mention my cock, was instantly aroused. She watched apprehensively as I gazed at her sexy, sweaty body. When our eyes met, she dropped her lids and blushed a deeper shade of red. But she only smiled demurely and remained kneeling at my feet.

My cock was again three steps ahead of me and tented mightily in my shorts. I was aroused and embarrassed at the same time. She gulped down what I discovered was her second beer, and rose shakily to her feet, brushing my rising cock as she did. "I'm sorry if I kept My Master waiting for his drink. I don't want him to have to spank me for disappointing him. I better go jump in the tub now and get ready for my lonely bed. The next time Master pulls my towel away, I may want to be fresh and enticing." She giggled seductively and padded up the stairs, leaving me to ogle at her backside and roughly fondle my front side. My mind exploded with pure lust. I could almost hear my Mom, "When are you going to finally fuck me? It will only take one time to make me your slave. I want my son to be my master."

A barrage of incestuous imagery rolled through my polluted mind. Was my Mom feeling horny? Was my Mom exploring the same sex fantasies that I had? Was my Mom offering herself to me? The only decision I could make at this moment was to chug my beer and grab another one fast. I returned to my chair and as I settled in, I saw one of my sex magazines tucked into the cushions with the page opened to photos of an older woman being rudely dominated and abused. In one, she was bound and bent over a chair being fucked in her ass by a young stud. In another, the lady was on her knees with a big dildo in her snatch, as she sucked a giant stunt-cock. There were many more dog-eared pages and I had not left this magazine here. Was there any chance that while I was at work, my Mom watched hard-core porn and played with herself, thinking of me?

I was roused from my musings when I heard the bathroom door open and the footfalls of my mother as she trooped down the hall to her bedroom. Stoked by a little alcohol for courage and steeled by the idea that a lonely, horny MILF,(My MILF), was only a few feet away, I began to climb the stairs. This could be my strongest cum-shot ever. With each step, I wrestled with the notion that there is something seriously wrong with rushing off to my room just to whack-off to the idea of having sex with my Mom. Yet as I approached the upper landing, my cock was poking through my trousers and my hand was stroking it determinedly. I was just about to head to my room and finish this taboo climax, when I spotted the half-opened door to my mother's room and the strange shadows cast on the wall.

It was with sincere trepidation that I tip-toed to the entrance.

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